


Küss mich bitte

by MaityBFiction



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caleb Widogast Deserves Nice Things, Caleb Widogast is a Mess, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Essek deserves to be happy, Essek is a nerd, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, Gen, Grieving Caleb, Hurt/Comfort, Its hard to be the bard, M/M, Making Out, POV Essek Theylss, Shadowgast, Shakespearean Sonnets, Wooing, essek is lonely, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22350718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaityBFiction/pseuds/MaityBFiction
Summary: Essek has made a new habit of spending the evenings with the Mighty Nein. And this new habit has led to him revealing that he enjoys poetry and writing. But it's not like any of the Mighty Nein can speak Celestial or Undercommon. Right?It's not like they can understand his poems.And it's not like Caleb will swoon at his perfect recitations like he sometimes does in his daydreams.Nonsense.Or is it?AKA: The author is a nerd with a theatre degree who loves Shakespeare and wants Essek to woo Caleb with a sonnet. So here it is.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Essek Thelyss
Comments: 43
Kudos: 384





	Küss mich bitte

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I joined a lot of ship discord servers and my inspiration has shot through the roof. Thank you Shadowgast server!!
> 
> Poems in Italics mean they are being recited in a language other than Common.  
> Poems recited NOT in italics mean they are being recited in Common. 
> 
> Also i'm so sorry ya'll have to read about my Shakespeare scansion rants ahhhh

**Küss mich bitte**

"Sooo Essek what are your hobbies~~~?" Asks Jester. 

Essek glances up from the spell book he is glancing over, one that Caleb had brought down from his mini library. It had become sort of a ritual at this point to spend evening meals with the Mighty Nein, and afterwards they would either relax in the hot tub, or sit in the living room. 

Essek had opted for the living room tonight, along with Yasha, Caleb, and Jester. He is yet to feel entirely comfortable with omitting anything too personal, but surely hobbies would be alright. 

"I write poetry." He states, quickly piquing the interest of everyone else in the room. 

"OH THAT is SOOOOO romantic~! What kind of poems do you write!?" Jester squealed, making him flinch a little. 

"N-Nothing too worthy of praise, I assure you. Something to...keep my mind busy when I find it hard to go into Trance. Um...romanticism I believe is what it would be called in the Empire." He states. 

"Ah...ja, I understand. That is a very intriguing choice for you, Essek." Caleb adds, looking up from the chair he is curled up in with Frumpkin. Essek nods, noting the way Yasha is looking at him with intrigue. 

"Could you read one to us?" She asks, her (still surprisingly soft) voice asks. Blushing a little, Essek clears his throat.

"I...I doubt they would be of any interest to a group so used to the adventures of Exandria, they are rather dry and-" 

"I would like to hear them too." Caleb says, sitting up. 

"Poetry is fascinating. I so often read words and I can recite but...I cannot create words on my own like that." 

Essek sighs, and he looks to Jester who is all but bouncing in her seat. He clears his throat and sighs, 

"Fine. But I warn you, it is not in Common." 

"What language is it!?" Jester gasps. 

"Celestial." If anyone knew the language it didn't show on anyone's face. He brought out a small notebook he kept on his person and opened it to the page where the small silk ribbon was, eyes firmly set on the words as he read.

It appeared as if his throat had closed on his own, only letting in the air he breathed but forbidding air to leave in any form of sound. Still, he took another deep breath and he centered himself. No one would understand, surely. These were his _friends_. These were people who were interested in him for something other than his reputation, his power, his position. They wanted to know Essek Theylss. Not Shadowhand Essek. This he could do for them at the very least. 

_“I loved thee, though I told thee not,_

_Right earlily and long,_

_Thou wert my joy in every spot,_

_My theme in every song._

_And when I saw a stranger face_

_Where beauty held the claim,_

_I gave it like a secret grace_

_The being of thy name._

_And all the charms of face or voice_

_Which I in others see_

_Are but the recollected choice_

_Of what I felt for thee.”_

The words flowed off his tongue slowly and methodically, sounding like the bells of a church or the tinkling of harmonies. And the more he spoke, the more he realized he could be dramatic if he wished. So he put emotion into it, he performed to the best of his abilities. Not like he was standing and giving a full recital, but he let his voice carry a little more than he usually did, and he put emotion into his face when he so often shoved it down. 

When he finished, he kept his gaze fixed firmly on his notebook, the words swimming as he felt one person's gaze boring into him. When he looked up he had expected Caleb.

It was Yasha who was giving him the inquisitive look. She looked at him and raised an eyebrow, and his gaze must have been pleading because she said nothing. 

"That was beautiful. Maybe one day you'll translate it." She said instead. Essek swallowed, glancing towards Caleb whose cheeks were dusted pink and his eyes were filled with awe. 

"Yes..." Essek murmured. 

"Perhaps someday I will..."

**.**

**.**

**.**

The next time Essek came for dinner was three nights later, surprisingly again, Yasha had asked for him to recite. This time, he had the full Nein’s attention. They were curled up in the living room as it was nippy outside, Essek himself had elected to share a chair with Caleb under a quilted blanket, trying his best to not look too comfortable. 

“Essek? Could you maybe read another one of your poems?” Yasha had piped up. The Drow looked at her, nervous. 

“It was...I really liked it. And I think you should read more. You are...the words sounded beautiful.” He bit his lip, and he sat up some to pull his notebook from his mantel. 

“Does...anyone have any objections to another poem?” He murmured, looking around the room. Jester’s eyes were wide and excited, Nott seemed intrigued, Beau was ready to judge with her eyes focusing in on him, leaning forward in her seat. 

“I’d like to hear it, yeah.” Caduceus smiled. 

“As would I.” Fjord concurred. 

It was decided then. Essek nodded and he opened his notebook, leaning back against the chair as he flipped through his pages. 

“Choose a theme everyone.” He began.

“We have romanticism, gothic, symbolic, fireside-” 

“Symbolic, please.” Caleb voted. Essek looked at the others. 

“Any...other votes?” 

“Nah, go for symbolism.” Beau waved her hand. He gave a nod and looked through his notebook, opening it at the blue tab he had. He always organized his poems by themes and types. He liked to have things in order after all. 

“Is this one in Common?” Jester gasped, tail whipping behind her. 

“No.” He stated easily.

“Aw...why?” She pouted.

“Because they are private. This one will be in Undercommon though.” He hummed easily, looking at the words on the page.

_“Let me not to the marriage of true minds_

_Admit impediments. Love is not love_

_Which alters when it alteration finds,_

_Or bends with the remover to remove._

_O no! It is an ever-fixed mark_

_That looks on tempests and is never shaken;_

_It is the star to every wand’ring bark,_

_Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken._

_Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks_

_Within his bending sickle’s compass come;_

_Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_

_But bears it out even to the edge of doom._

_If this be error and upon me prov’d,_

_I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.”_

Fourteen lines, three feminine endings, five periods, four commas, and two semicolons. Each affecting the tone of the piece and how one should speak it. 

“You didn’t write that.” Beau scoffed, sitting up more and scowling at him. Essek gave her an amused look.

“Oh?”

“That’s like...a famous sonnet from that half-elf bard who lived centuries ago. Whatever his name is. The Bard. The OG.” She waved her hand dismissively and sat down with a huff. 

“Very good, Beauregard. I was wondering which of you spoke Undercommon again.”

“Why’d you write it down if you didn’t write it?” Her tone seemed suspicious, something that confused Essek. 

“Because this poem secretly has answers to an age old prophecy that I can unlock using the powers of Dunemancy.” He stated with a dead-serious face.

“WOAH REALLY!?” Nott was now in his face, making the Drow scramble back in the chair some and squishing Caleb against the arm. 

“I-I was kidding! Goodness I...no. I just like the poem!” He quickly corrected. Turning to Caleb he apologized softly, scooting away from him some in the big chair. 

“It is fine, you will get used to sudden interruptions of personal space.” Caleb assured him, a hand on his shoulder. 

“...I was studying the poem.” He clarified. 

“How the _fuck_ do you study a poem?” Beau frowned.

“Well um...here, come here.” He beckoned the monk over, and had her lean over his shoulder. 

“You see here? There are fourteen lines. That is what makes it a sonnet. And each line has ten syllables. Unless it doesn’t. If it has more than ten syllables we call it a feminine ending. It is why some of the words are contracted...like prov’d and lov’d. And why some are elongated, like ever-fixed. Instead of saying ‘ever-fixed’ you say ‘ev-er-fix-ed.’ See?” 

Caleb was leaning over his other shoulder, finger gently tracing the lines, he could hear him counting subtly under his breath. 

“Twelve...thirteen...fourteen…” He smiled a bit, the human began to count the syllables, mumbling the phrase in broken rhythms to get the syllables right. 

Caleb stopped on the sixth line.

He mumbled it again.

He tapped the rhythm on his thigh.

The wizard huffed softly. 

Essek slowly closed the book. 

“Each work from...ah, the OG Bard as you called him Beau, is a formula. And when you memorize the equation, you can recite almost any of his famous works. I find myself attracted to his rhymes and rhythms solely because of this. It is logical, easy to follow.” 

“Perhaps...you could recite it again? But in Common?” Caleb murmured, looking at him, he had the same kind of light in his eyes that he got when they spoke of magic and runic equations. 

“LAME. I’m bored. I’m going in the hot tub. Jester, Yash? You comin?” She pushed herself up, hands in her pockets.

“Oh! Oh! I wanna dip! Nott come with us! Get the wine!” She picked up the goblin, who immediately began squirming to be put down. 

“I think I could go for a quick dip. My muscles are a little sore from working out today.” Yasha admitted. 

“Fjord? Will you be joining?” The half-orc shook his head.

“No...I believe I might tuck in for the night and catch up on some sleep. Unless...Caduceus had plans for meditating, in which case I might join him.” 

“Of course, my friend. It has been a minute since we meditated together.” The firbolg stood and began to gather up any leftover dishes from their down time in the living room, Fjord quickly joining in to help. Before long, Essek and Caleb were alone in the room, the Drow’s head spinning a little at how fast the Mighty Nein seemed to move from topic to topic. 

“Well um...I guess if everyone else is done I could...go upstairs for some light reading.” He noted the slight hint of disappointment in his voice. Essek knew it was getting late and that he should head home, but as of late the idea of leaving just left an atrabilious taste on his tongue. 

“Caleb if...you still wanted me to recite it for you in Common, I would not object. Is there a study we could move to perhaps?” Essek slowly stood, consciously resisting the urge to push up on his toes to float. He didn’t need to do that here, the Mighty Nein found it impressive but...very unnecessary. He could keep their respect without subtle displays of power. 

“Ja...um...I would enjoy that. I just don’t want to keep you up too late. I know you are a very busy man and you probably need to get home so-”

“If you want me to go so you can have some down time alone I can do so, it is-"

“Nein.” The word was firm, as if Caleb had to force the word out. Slightly desperate. Essek merely cocked his head to the side a bit.

“I...would like you to stay. If...that is what you wish.” 

“Is it what you wish?”

“Essek, I am asking you what _you_ want.” 

“Well what I want is many things, but the trivial desires I have don’t matter, they are menial and I can easily discard-”

“Why deny yourself the trivial desires? You will be filled with regret. If you want to spend time with me then say so. That is all you need to do here. Just... _ask_.” 

Ask for it, and it shall be given. Name your desires unto the Luxon and in Light you will receive its Blessings. 

“Caleb. I want to share this passion of mine with you. Would...you be interested in my poetry?” 

“Absolutely.”

Essek watched as Caleb held his hand towards him, an invitation. If Essek took his hand, he was unsure if he would return home that night. But he did not take it, he was _sure_ he would wake in the morning with a sour mood and the bitter regret trailing his every move. 

He reached towards the hand, setting his palm atop of Caleb’s and trying not to feel too giddy when Caleb pulled him a little closer so he could actually hold his hand and begin leading him upstairs. 

The stairs curved upwards and Essek found that despite the tree growing through the house, it was a sturdy domain. The tree looked to be a part of the infrastructure now, roots twining with the bricks and mortar, the stone acting as support and holding up the branches for the large oak-like tree. 

“You all are insane.”

“Sorry?”

“It is refreshing.” Essek gave the tiniest of squeezes, heart jumping when Caleb returned it. They dipped into the hall on the second floor, heading about halfway down it before Caleb opened the door to his bedroom. Their hands parted, and Essek stepped into the room. 

It was what he expected...almost. There were bookshelves filled with books the wizard had been collecting now that he had a place to store them outside of his haversack, the bed had thick blankets and fluffed pillows, plenty of light for reading. What surprised Essek was the shelf dedicated to trinkets. He made his way over and took a look at them, his lips forming a smile much easier now. 

Cat figurines.

Of all shapes and sizes and colors. 

They lined the shelf in order of shortest to tallest, and he ran a finger over one that seemed to have texture in the fur. Fascinating. 

There was a pendant too...silver with a red gem in the center. He carefully picked it up, examining it. There seemed to be an aura of sadness around it, 

“Ah...please put that down.” He jumped, but his hold on the pendant was firm. 

“I apologize.” He set it back down, Caleb quickly came back over and adjusted it back to its original position next to a purple cat. 

“It was...a friend’s. That is all...it means a lot to me.” His voice was tight, but Essek recognized the difference between anger and mourning. 

“...Was it Lucien or Nonagon? The one Nott asked me about?” He inquired. Caleb was quiet, his hands frozen on the cat figurine. His fingers gently stroked the back of it as if he were petting a real cat. 

“....He went by Mollymauk at the time.” He whispered. 

“He...has passed then, I’m assuming?” 

“He was murdered. Ja.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I avenged him. He killed my cat too. I burned the bastard to the ground for what he did. He had hurt too many people. I could not let him live.” Caleb’s voice was beginning to shake, Essek wasn’t good at comforting but he knew he could help in some way. He took Caleb by the shoulders and gently moved him from the shelf, 

“Want to hear that poem?” He offered, sitting with him on the edge of the bed. Caleb fidgeted with his hands in his lap, nodding. 

“Are you alright?”

“Just...it was a very bad time. It was not your fault. Please...go ahead.” He situated himself on the bed next to Caleb so he could face him, bringing his book out again and flipping to the page. This time he spoke in Common, taking it slow, letting caleb follow along as he ran his finger over the lines. 

“Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.”

Caleb leaned closer, pointing to the comma. 

“You said punctuation is important...can...you expand on that, please?” He whispered. Essek nodded.

“Certainly. Periods indicate the end of a thought or a statement, therefore we use a downward inflection in speech.” He moved his finger up to the comma,

“But a comma indicates a pause in thought or a statement, therefore we usually use an upward inflection in speech, or we keep the tone the same.” Caleb nodded, taking the information in. 

“It is like an equation.” He breathed, in awe of the knowledge Essek was providing.

“I told you.” The Shadowhand smirked. He dared to scoot a little closer and he cleared his throat, continuing- 

“O no! It is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wand’ring bark,

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.”

Caleb pointed to the sixth line.

“That one. It has eleven syllables. I counted.” He stated.

“Yes. It is a feminine ending.”

“Does that affect the inflections of tone?”

“Sometimes. But mostly it affects the rhythm of tone. The ten syllable lines are in pentameter. It is like a heartbeat.” Essek tapped out the rhythm, then set his hand on his own chest. 

“See? Feel.” Caleb sat up straight, pressing his hand to his chest and focusing. Essek could almost hear the drumming in his head. 

_Ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum._

Caleb’s eyes opened, the deep-set, square-like spheres widening to be more almond shaped.

“It is exactly like a heartbeat. That is incredible.” 

“He made music with his body. Using his own heart as tempo.”

Essek handed the notebook to Caleb, which made the human flick his gaze to him in uncertainty. 

“You know the formula. Now put it into practice.” 

“But what if I fuck it up?”

“This isn’t a spell, Caleb. There are no risks here. You lose nothing if you make a mistake. You simply get to try again.” Caleb seemed comforted by that, and he raised his notebook to look at the words. 

“I cannot read Undercommon.”

“Then repeat after me.”

Essek raised his chin, tapping on his chest softly as he spoke to give Caleb the beat.

“Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle’s compass come;”

Caleb nodded and set the notebook down, beginning to tap the beat on his own chest softly as he spoke in time with Essek. 

“Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me prov’d,

I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.”

When they ended, Caleb was grinning along with Essek. The Shadowhand looked at the other and moved a little closer again, leg brushing up against Caleb’s. 

“Would you like to hear more?” He asked.

“Do you have more of his works?”

“At home. Perhaps we can work it into our studying sessions.” 

“Ja, I would greatly enjoy that.” Caleb smiled.

His breath hitched as he was suddenly drawn in for a tight hug, he had not expected that. Still, Essek didn’t entirely mind it. Especially if that hug was from Caleb. He wrapped his arms around the other in return, giving him a gentle squeeze.

“And what is this for?” He asked.

“For helping me.”

“I merely taught you how to recite a sonnet.”

“Nein you...sometimes when I linger on those days...before we met...before we made it to Rosohna...I go into a very dark place in my mind. You helped me not go there.”

“Are you saying I brought you to the Light?” Essek joked, pulling back some to smirk. 

“I suppose I am.” Caleb smirked back. 

They were so close. Essek wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull back or press closer. But Caleb seemed to be in the same predicament. The two men just stayed where they were, eyes fixed on one another, silver and blue, and the ‘menial desires’ Essek had been trained to drown in logic and loyalty were beginning to flood his heart. 

“If I felt your heartbeat, Mister Essek...would it be beating in pentameter right now?” Caleb whispered, foreheads bumping together. 

“N-No.” He responded. Caleb’s hand moved and set itself on his chest, directly over his sternum. His heart was steady but fast, and Essek had never felt so vulnerable. 

“You are correct.” 

“Did you doubt me, Widogast?”

“Not at all.” 

Essek raised his hand, but he didn’t lay it on Caleb’s chest. Instead, he let it travel upward and raised upon his cheek, the stubble tickling his softened palm. 

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” He murmured.

“Okay even I know that one you nerd.” 

“Did you just call the Shadowhand of Xhorhas, right hand to the Bright Queen, a _nerd_?” He gasped.

“Ja. I did.” Caleb’s smirk only grew, the playfulness behind it making Essek laugh. Gods he hadn’t heard himself laugh in _years_.

“But please, tell me how I am like a summer’s day. Is it because I am ginger?” 

“No, it’s because your eyes are like the skies in summer, and your voice is rugged like cicadas on a humid day.” He wove the symbolism easily, watching as red began to bloom along Caleb’s cheeks. 

“Your freckles are like fields of wheat, dotting along your pale skin that is sometimes marred with sunburns and often times with scars. Your hair reminds me less of the sun and more of a campfire dying out, low and emberous.” The redness in Caleb’s cheeks only grew, and Essek was grinning at how nice Caleb looked when he was complimented. 

“I-I did not think you would actually do it I…” 

“I always keep my word, Caleb.” The wizard looked up at him, the blush still there. 

“Can I teach you a phrase in Zemnian?” He murmured.

“By all means.” 

“Okay...repeat after me.” 

“Küss mich, bitte.” 

“Kuss...mish, beet-eh.” Essek tried, the language foreign on his tongue.

“Nein, Küss mich, bitte.” Caleb reiterated. Essek nodded, understanding this time around. Zemnian was much more hardened in its syllables and consonants. 

“Küss mich bitte.” He said, earning a smile from Caleb.

“What does it mean?” 

“It is a greeting and a goodbye.” Essek nodded, lips parting some. Oh, that was nice. Caleb had given him a personal way to tell him hello and goodbye. 

“Thank you…” He whispered. 

“It is not a problem.” 

Standing slowly, Essek stretched. 

“Unfortunately, I should probably return home.” He mumbled, looking for his mantel and remembering that he left it downstairs. 

“Shall I walk you home?” Caleb offered. 

“Not tonight...I think I’ll be fine. We have a lesson tomorrow morning anyways, you should rest.” The wizard stood slowly, handing him his notebook. 

“Then...guten nacht, goodnight, Essek.” Essek pocketed the notebook in his pocket, nodding. 

“Küss mich bitte, Caleb.” He responded easily, proud that he had the pronunciation.

“Alright.” Caleb moved closer, cupping his face. Essek had no idea what was happening and out of instinct began to raise his hands in defense before Caleb’s lips were on his, freezing the Shadowhand in his place. 

Caleb was kissing him. 

Essek barely had time to celebrate before Caleb was pulling back. That just wouldn’t do. He chased his lips with his own and captured them once more, intending to properly return the sign of affection he had been given. Fuck, when had he last kissed someone? When had he last liked someone enough to kiss them? 

Caleb made a slight sound at his eagerness to return his kiss, his arms tugging him close and securing themselves around his waist. Essek was quick to move his arms around the other’s neck, going up on his toes just a bit but not pushing up to float. Caleb was taller than him, but it felt nice to be held like this...he felt safe. 

When they parted this time, both of their cheeks were darker in color, and Essek only pulled away a few inches. 

“Küss mich bitte doesn’t mean goodbye...does it Caleb?” He mumbled.

“Nein.” 

“What does it mean, then?” 

“Kiss me, please.” Essek had been duped. Of course. He felt no anger or irritation by it though, in fact...he was a little impressed.

“Well, if you insist.” The Drow smirked, pressing against him so Caleb had to back up towards the bed. 

Lips meeting once more, the two ended up in a tangle on the bed. Caleb’s arms grasping at Essek while the shorter male straddled his lap. Their breaths flowed hot between them, the rest of the world forgotten for just a moment. 

Maybe he wouldn’t be going home tonight. 

And in the back of Essek’s mind...he decided that was alright. 

If teaching Caleb about sonnets led to this, then he’d have to make it a habit of reciting to the human. 

Maybe it was time he picked up new habits. 

Maybe it was time he began to give into those menial desires.

If Caleb was wanting to fill them...Essek saw no reason to deny himself.

Because it was very clear now he didn’t just want affection, or sex, or intimacy.

He wanted Caleb. 

Scars, grieving, trauma and all.

And Essek was okay with being selfish in this one instance. 


End file.
